Lost in a Storm
by Tsia
Summary: Sam is kidnapped and tortured and Dean has to save him before it is too late. Chapter 6: Sam
1. Dean

Title: Lost in a Storm

Author: Tsia

Characters: Sam and Dean

Details: The brothers are not my creation. I am borrowing only.

Warnings: Language

Chapter: Dean

Begin

"Dean!" Sam screamed into the dark, huddled in the corner of the small, windowless basement. He so desperately willing something in him to happen. He needed something, anything to snap into place and he could free himself. But like all the days and nights before, nothing happened. He clutched his torn clothes to himself more for comfort than for warmth, he had found the warmest spot, the corner to the left of the door, shaking in pain. Sam cringed when he heard a banging on the door.

"Shut the fuck up!"

Sam had been held in this cold, damp basement for what felt like years. Since he could not see daylight and the men did not seem to come at regular intervals, he had no way of calculating the passage of time. He usually had a good circadian rhythm, but the men had beat it out of him. Most of the time he was kept in the dark. The only source of light was a bare bulb that barely cast enough light to reach the walls.

Sam had gone out for coffee at about five am, because he could not sleep. He had lain in bed for about three hours after he had woke up from a nightmare; no visions, just a run of the mill nightmare. He was glad he did not wake his older brother, Dean needed his sleep. The poltergeist they dealt with the night before had done a number on Dean before Sam could vanquish it. Refusing a doctor, Dean relented to the idea of another night at the hotel. So Sam left him sleeping somewhat peacefully in their room for caffeine.

All was fine even when his attention was drawn by three men in the back of the diner that was across the road from the motel. At first they were very interested in him, but then they got wrapped up in their conversation, he shrugged it off and gave them no further notice. He was unprepared when, back at the motel, a van pulled up behind him and he was drug inside.

Sam could have taken them if not for the fact that chloroform was used to knock him out. Very old school and dangerous if not used in the right proportions. When he woke, with a splitting headache, he was tied up and under a cover of some sort still being transported somewhere. The rocking of the van and the drug had him in and out for what seemed like hours. At last they ended up at some type of farm, at least that is what he thought glimpsed through is drug induced haze.

The next thing he knew he tied to a chair in the room he was in now and was there were three men questioning him. They wanted to know who he was and what he could do. Sam refused to cooperate which caused the men to use more brutal ways of persuasion which caused Sam to clam up more. What he gathered during his time with them was that they had heard of a group of people that had powers and they wanted those powers for their own ends.

Days passed and only a single opportunity presented itself for Sam to break free. He almost got away after about a week, but by that time he was suffering injuries that slowed down his reflexes. Sam was subdued quickly and treated to a round of beatings that left him gasping for air and begging for them to stop. Several times he was beaten until he was unconscious.

Through it all he never gave them any information except insults and a name, Dean. That came about on the tenth night, after a severe beating Sam was lying where the men had dropped him an hour before. On his back staring at the ceiling Sam called out for his brother.

---------

"Dean, help me," Sam whispered into the dimness. A single, bare, incandescent bulb burned overhead. A the ghost image appeared before his half swollen eyes.

'Look what you have gotten yourself into. You know little brother, you have to stop doing this. Dad's going to be furious.'

"But Dean I can't stop them. I can't get away," the tears in his eyes crept into his voice.

'Sam, you are too frail, can't take a couple of punches.'

Sam could see that condescending smirk on his big brother's face and he knew what he said was true.

'Why should I help you?'

"Because you are my brother, Dean. I'm sorry I am not strong like you ... please, you've got to help me. I haven't told them anything, I promise," Sam blinked away the tears, Dean's image wavered and softened.

'I know you wouldn't. Why do you doubt me? I am always going to save you. That is what I do.'

"Thanks Dean. Please hurry," Sam smiled despite his fear.

'Be strong little brother. You know all you have to do is call and I will come.'

The shadow of Dean's smirk melted into a warm smile that brightened his whole face then he faded into the dimness.

-------

So Sam would call out for his brother whenever he needed strength, knowing that Dean could help. At first it was just a thought, conjuring up his brother's image, but before long Sam was screaming for Dean over and over again. He would not say anything else, wanting desperately for this all to end. Hoping that his resolve and will would hold out until Dean came and saved him. This just made the men angrier.

On this day or night, Sam gave up trying to decide, he woke to a load noise. Startled, he got up and staggered to the door. Listening intently he heard the howl of the wind and what he thought was a train. 'oh no!' Sam's mind raced, 'tornado!' He nearly lept to his corner, covering his head with his arms.

Wind raged, Sam could barely make out the shouts then BOOM! A loud crash followed by the sound of groaning metal and splitting wood. Something hit the door, causing him to jump but he did not move.

"Dean!" Sam wailed into the tormented structure's death throws.

"Dean..." came out almost as a prayer before the building collapsed on him.

End


	2. Tornado

Title: Lost in a Storm Author: Tsia Characters: Sam and Dean Details: The brothers are not my creation. I am borrowing only.  
Warnings: Language Chapter: Tornado

Begin

The tornado had been a bad one but the residents of Izzalberg were prepared for such weather. Having installed early warning systems throughout the town a few years back, most of the town's people had been ready when the storm hit. Along with the firemen and police forces, residents helped out the next morning organizing help centers at churches and the local high school gym.

The damage to the town was confined mostly to the southeast and because of the early warning systems there had been only minor injuries in the town proper and some outside the town limits. A systematic search was conducted to find out the damage to the out lying homesteads. It was discovered late in the afternoon that three men had died when the tornado hit the farm house.

"Hank call the sheriff. Tell her we found three here at the Anderson place," ordered Pete Benson, the head of the Search and Rescue Unit. "And have an ambulance come down here to pick up the bodies."

"Yes sir," replied Hank Spencer, a fresh faced new fireman who had just moved from Okalhoma City about a year ago with his wife, Amanda.

"Call me Pete," he said for the hundredth time watching the young man run to the truck. Pete surveyed the destruction as he waited for Hank to return, 'This has to be the worst hit by far.' The house was a total loss and the barn did not fair any better.

"Sir, the ambulance will be here in a hour, they are tied up with some injured folks north of here. And the sheriff said to take pictures and she will talk to you at the hospital," Hank reported to Pete.

Pete smiled at the young man who had seemed to be shaken by the deaths. "Thanks Hank. Why don't you sit down for a minute, you look a might pale," he suggested. He was about to join him on the tailgate of their truck when they both turned toward the ruckus at the house.

"What's going on Janet?" Pete yelled to his friend and dog handler of the unit.

"I think Betsy's found someone!" answered Janet Jackson as she trailed behind her dog who was barking her head off. "Frank, grab that pry bar and get your ass over here!" she called to her assistant.

Frank Bonner wasted no time gathering the needed gear and getting to Janet's position. Hank and Pete joined in to help with the recovery. Praying that whoever it was was alive, all four of them worked in silence that was punctuated by the barking dog. Betsy was insistent.

"I found a hand!" screamed Janet, "Help me move this beam."

After a half an hour the body of a young man was recovered. He was breathing but unconscious. He had numerous injuries but from Pete's initial assessment nothing seemed life threatening.

"He is one lucky bastard. Looks like he was the only one to make it to the basement," said Janet. She watched as Hank assisted Pete with the first aid. When they were finished they covered him with the two blankets that were in the truck.

"Sir," said Hank, "a lot of his injuries look old."

"Call me Pete and what are you talking about?"

"The injuries do not seem consistent with..." Hank blushed a bit but continued, "I mean, look at him, I know he was buried under the house in that basement but some of the bruises look old and some of the cuts look partially healed."

Pete frown at the young man, although he had wondered the same thing. He did not want to comment until Doc Robbins had a look at the man.

"I don't know Hank, I am not a doctor, but that is something Doc Robbins can clear up for us."

Twenty minutes later the ambulance arrived and took the injured man to the Izzalberg Hospital.

End 


	3. Gladys

Title: Lost in a Storm Author: Tsia Characters: Sam and Dean Details: The brothers are not my creation. I am borrowing only.  
Warnings: Language Chapter: Gladys

Begin

"Dean!" the man yelled struggling against the EMTs that were trying to transport him from the ambulance to the hospital. The man was frantically trying to get free of the straps.

"Calm down buddy, we are almost there," EMT Randel tried to sooth the man. "Nurse Chapel, tell Doc Robbins we have a lively one," he continued to the nurse who ran out to help.

After 30 minutes and a sedative later the man was safely in the emergency room being checked out by Dr. Robbins. He was treated for his injuries and the doctor gave his report to the sheriff.

"'Evidence of torture over a prolonged period of time'," Sheriff Carrie Smith read from the report. "'Prolonged period of time'? Doc, you mean to tell me this shit was going on for MONTHS and we had not one damn clue what was happening?" She paced in the tiny office.

"Sheriff, unless you had patrols out checking every house, there was no way to know," the doctor explained, motioning her to follow.

"No excuse, something had to tip someone off," the sheriff's eyes were aflame with anger. "I have a couple of deputies out at the McAllaster place right now with Natily Greer and Ralph Phillips while they gather the evidence. We will get to the bottom of this." She calmed down a bit when they reached the man's room, 269. "I will need to speak with him when he wakes."

"Of course Carrie, I will call you as soon as that happens," Doc Robbins replied as he checked the man's vitals.

Unfortunately, much to the Sheriff's dismay, when the man did wake he was in no condition to give any information.

Nurse Chapel was on her daily rounds when the patient awoke. "Good afternoon," she said in a cheery fashion as she reached for the sheet.

The man jerked upright and away from her touch.

"Now now, no need to get all upset, I am just trying to check your stitches," she responded to his actions with soft words and non-threatening movements. She also pressed the call button.

The man tilted his head and stared at the nurse intently, his breath evening out. Before she could react, he reached for her and placed his hands on either side of her face, cradling it gently. She was surprised but did not attempt to move for fear of what he might do.

"Dean?" he questioned softly, probing her brown eyes for answers. He stroked his thumbs gently over her brown skin.

Nurse Chapel looked into those big green eyes and she melted. She could not help it, he looked so vulnerable, so desperate. "I am Nurse Chapel. Is your name Dean?"

The man shook his head violently and repeated his question, "Dean?" He held her gaze for a few seconds more then, pulling his hands away, he curled up into himself. He held his long legs to his chest, his forehead resting on his knees. Rocking slowly, he murmured 'Dean' over and over again. A noise brought his attention to the door. Stilled he watched as a doctor and two orderlies came in.

"Are you alright?" Dr. Henry asked the nurse.

"I am fine Dr. Henry," Nurse Chapel replied. "Our patient is awake. I need to get Dr. Robbins." She left the man's room with the doctor and two orderlies.

For weeks that followed the man weary of the people, cautious of everyone. He spoke to no one, fliching away for any contact. Doctors of various medicines were brought in to help but he would not speak anything other than 'Dean.' Slowly he started to respond to the nurses and doctors with facial expressions and a clumsy sign language. Slowly he began to heal.

End 


	4. Recovery

Title: Lost in a Storm Author: Tsia Characters: Sam and Dean Details: The brothers are not my creation. I am borrowing only.  
Warnings: Language Chapter: Recovery

Begin

In the weeks that followed the tornado, the town cleaned up and organized. Power was restored and people were reconstructing their lives. They were lucky most of the damage was light.

The sheriff did a bit of poking around and found that the three men who had died at the McAllaster place had been renting for the past six months and were paid up for the next six. Borr Properties, who handled the lease, only had two name: Larry Billings and Todd Anderson. Both turned out to be phony as well as their background information. The only real thing in the lease was the payment had been transacted in cash. The third man had the ID of Peter Brady, again bogus. Thus they were all unknowns. That left the injured man found in the destroyed home.

From the doctor's report it was determined that he had wounds were in various stages of healing from hours old to weeks old, telling them that he had in fact been tortured for weeks if not months. There was no way of getting the information because he did not have any ID either. Also the young man was still suffering from the psychological as well as the physical trauma of his confinement. All the man would say was 'Dean.' They could not tell if this was his name, his captor, or whoever. He was officially known as John Doe # 36, he was being treated at the local hospital.

So the police were left with 3 fake ids, phony information on the lease, a traumatized victim, and a crime scene that was destroyed by nature. The sent out his fingerprints and picture to be circulated but did not hold their breath anything would come of it. Things were slow and funds were low.

"Good morning, John," Nurse Gladys smiled as she enter the room. No one liked calling him 'that man' or 'hey you' or 'patient 45389' all the time. Furthermore, he did not seem to object at the label.

The man flinched upon her arrival then smiled at her. With a quick nod he returned the greeting.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked moving to the side of his bed.

"Dean," he replied with a sigh.

"That is good to hear," the nurse had gotten used to this patient's non-verbal communications and his single word vocabulary. Though she had to admit, with a chuckle, it was worse than The Smurfs her children used to watch. And she thought they were bad enough.

After a moment he frown then looked out the window. His hair flopped down over his eyes causing him to blink, but he made no effort to brush them aside.

Gladys took the man's vitals, checking his recovery. She was pleased to see all were getting closer to normal. "You'll be able to get out of here soon," she continued to smile as he looked at her confused.

"Dean?" he replied as if to ask when.

They were interrupted at this moment by his doctor. Doctor Robbins smiled and greeted them both, "Good morning and isn't it a fine morning?" He was chipper, especially since he knew that his patient was healing nicely.

Gladys nearly choked when she saw the man roll his eyes and smile. She filled in the doctor on the details and left.

"It is good to see you are doing better," the doctor flipped through the chart marking the notes the nurse had added. All of his injuries, and there were more than a few, had healed nicely. He was still worried about his patient but there was not physical reason to keep him here and they needed the bed.

"Dean," the young man said nodding in agreement. The doctor was also learning this man's single word language. That one word in addition to infection, facial expressions, and body language conveyed a multitude of meanings.

Almost to himself, "I wish you could tell me what happened. At least who you are." Dr. Robbins' eyes softened more at the frown on his face, "Or who Dean is."

End 


	5. John

Title: Lost in the Storm Author: Tsia Characters: Sam and Dean Details: The brothers are not my creation. I am borrowing only.  
Warnings: Language Chapter: John

Begin

John had been out of the hospital for six weeks now. Sitting on the porch watching the children play and people doing their daily activities, he enjoyed the early summer evening breeze. The young man was staying with his doctor's friend, Joe Hardy, a retired general practitioner, whose wife died the year before.

The people at the hospital did not know what to do with John Doe # 36, but the hospital could not house him any longer. Not having a psych facility hindered anything along those lines. Someone has mentioned state but Dr. Henry did not think that would be the best for his patient. So he talked with his old friend, who he knew needed help of his own. Also, like most of the community, felt responsible for what had happened. They did not want him to slip through the cracks of the state government.

So Joe Hardy, Doc J as he was know around town, took the young man in and watched out for him. Walking out onto the porch, he said, "Supper will be ready as soon as you go wash up." He smiled at the young man he had grown fond.

John sighed in acquiescence, "Dean," and moved to get up. It had taken the retired doctor many weeks to understand what the young man was saying or trying to say. Many trial and error and lots of patience overcome the barrier, mostly. The young man could convey a whole host of feelings and intentions in just that one word along with tone, facial expressions, and body language. It might have been funny, unfortunately it was all the young man had.

"John, don't forget," Doc J continued, "Anna Mae is expecting us at the town hall at 7:30." He chuckled when he rolled his eyes and breathed, "Dean," in a most exasperated fashion.

"Don't act so put upon, young man," Doc J scolded lightly, "You agreed to help," reminding his charge. He laughed out loud when John threw up his hands and hung is head.

The had agreed upon the name John after several failed attempts to get him to remember his name. They had thought it was Dean, but he quickly denied that. So John Doe #36 stayed and he did not seem to mind.

Doc J dabbled in psychology and tried to help the young man overcome or at least deal with his trauma. Many nights found them together after nightmares with the retired doctor reassuring his charge that he was not in that bad place anymore. Along with that, he was re-educating the troubled man on how to do everyday things. Most ordinary things were strange activities and he to be explained in detail. For example, setting the table had turned into an hour lesson. But nothing really seemed to phase him, he took everything in stride, accepting the challenges as they came.

The biggest challenge Doc J seemed to face was now that school was over for the summer, all the teenage girls who wanted to 'help out.' The soon realized that his young ward was 'HOT', to put it in the terms of the young ladies in town. He had to admit that John was a good looking young man and that he had a charm to him that the girls could not resist. John's floppy hairstyle and boyish grin kept bringing in the females. It did not seem to matter to them that he could not engage them in conversation. So Doc J ran interference sometimes having to resort to "I'll tell your parents" to get them to leave.

John had an appeal that was not only for teenage hormonal girls, but also, was able to woo just about anyone when he turned on what the old doctor could only describe as, 'puppy-dog-eyes.' Even he was not immune. With one look, John could have almost anyone doing what he needed or wanted, even if all he said was 'Dean.'

Doc J laughed as John once again got a bunch of girls, who would normally be gawking at the boys, to set out chairs and tables for the picnic tomorrow. Doc J watched as the young man laughed and moved, working the crowd without having to say a word.

At 10 pm the preparations had come to a close with everything set up and ready. The forecast was good fro the next few days to they did not have to worry about rain. John shuffled over to where the doctor was talking to the pastor.

"I know Br. Fred, looks like we will have a good turnout tomorrow," the retiree said smiling at John as he approached. "I know a certain population who will be here just because of you," he teased, watching the young man blush and roll his eyes.

"So you will be helping out?" Br. Fred asked expectantly.

John shrugged as he said quickly, "Dean," in a whatever attitude. He looked around one last time then nodded to the house. Seeing his intention, the doctor said, "I'll see you there," and watched him leave.

"Any headway?" Br. Fred asked but feared he knew the answer.

"He seems to be opening up but he still gets uncomfortable when the McAllaster Place is brought up and you know his vocabulary," Doc J responded with a sigh. He also knew that Br. Fred was fishing. He had wanted the young man to come to church, but John was reluctant to almost adamant at staying out of the building, though he would talk to Br. Fred when ever he met him.

"Good night, see you in the morning," was Doc J's departing words as he headed towards his home.

Back at the house the retiree found John sitting on the porch. "I figured yu would be in bed," he said taking a set next to his charge.

John smiled, shook his head, and pointed to the rising moon, "Dean." His tone held wonder and spoke of beauty with a hint of sadness. The night was still with most of the townsfolk tucked in for the night. Every once in a while they could hear the rumble of a passing car or a shout from kids up past their bedtimes.

"The moon? Yes, it was almost full," he sat watching it rise. He had the forgotten the simple pleasures throughout his years. His wife Wilma usually reminded him of these things, but with her passing Joe let them go. He was rediscovering them with John.

He would often find John outside late at night. Some noise would catch his attention and come to find out the young man would be coming in the front door at all hours. He had tried to find out what was going on but John's nocturnal roamings were a mystery. Doc J concluded that everyone needed a secret.

End 


	6. Sam

Title: Lost in the Storm Author: Tsia Characters: Sam and Dean Details: The brothers are not my creation. I am borrowing only.  
Warnings: Language Chapter: Sam

Begin

The day was a perfect summer's day, not too hot to chase them indoors, but just hot enough to have people buying cold drinks at the concession stands. The picnic started at 11:00 am with games, food and drink stands, and a flea market. Young and old filled the park, laughing, playing, visiting, and relaxing.

John was making the rounds helping here and there. He seemed to be enjoying himself but Doc J saw a quality of uncomfortableness that held the young man back from truly engaging the crowd. He covered well with his easy smile and quick laugh, but he never lingered or touched. That was the biggest thing he still had to overcome, he could not stand for anybody to get too close, let alone touch him.

Doc J was talking with Brother Fred when Sheriff Smith came up to them around five pm. "Happy 4th there Doc, Brother," she greeted.

"Happy 4th to you as well Carrie," the retiree returned the greeting to Sheriff Smith. Doc J knew this was not a casual meet, he could tell it in her eyes. "What can I do you for?"

"Well Doc, I just wanted to you to know that I hear tell that someone has been asking around about the McAllaster place and the men who died there during that tornado," the sheriff's eyes followed John as he moved around a bunch of kids playing tag. She had taken it personally when she found out about the young man and what he had been though.

Concerned, the Doc looked Carrie in the eye and asked, "You think he was one of them?" despite his control his fear crept into his voice.

"Don't know, but we have our eye out on the rough fella. He didn't say what his plans where but he has been avoiding my deputies all day. He just drove out there, so be on the look out in case he slips past. He is about 25-30, driving a big, black, older model sedan," the sheriff said looking at the Doc intently. "I am going to go do a patrol out by the McAllaster place and meet up with Daniel, he was the one who finally talked to the man," Sheriff Smith was not as pleased although she did not seem as tense. "From what he said the man was just looking for places to rent, but I am thinking he might be looking for his friends and our boy." She inclined her head toward John.

"Watch out for our boy, Doc. I might just have to bring that fella in for a bit of a chat,■ she was already lost in thought when she waved good bye.

"I will," he answered and moved to keep a better look out for the black car and John.

"What do you think Joe?" Br. Fred was concerned, as anyone would be.

"I think I will find out how he is fairing. I may have to rescue him," he said chuckling when he saw were John was now. The retired doctor walked over to the young man.

John was now sitting with the local chapter of the Red Hat Society nodding and smiling at the attention he was getting. He did not appear too uncomfortable but flicked his eyes to the doctor with a pleading look. Doc J just smiled as he joined the group.

Word spread quickly until by 6 pm all in town were watching out for strangers. More and more people cam to talk with John and Doc J, informing the retiree that there were on guard.

It was around 8 pm and the picnic was in still full swing. Doc J and John were sitting with the contingent of WWII vets. The retiree was taking to his old friends telling them a lively story when he noticed a deep rumble of a V8 engine. He quickly looked at John to find him still, his expression blank. He had tilted his head as he often did when he was concentrating, turning to find the source of the sound.

Curious and alarmed, Doc J looked to see a huge, black 4 door drive past and park at the hotel. Feeling John move, he got up and asked, "Who is it?"

John stood and watched as a black four door car drove past and stopped at the hotel down the street. He did not take his eyes off the car for one second. Doc J was growing more alarmed. He turned to Benny, an old friend and vet, and asked him to call the Sheriff. He nodded and moved away dialing his cell.

By this time Doc J saw that a man in a green, long sleeved shirt and jeans had gotten out of the car and was rummaging around in the trunk. John was still staring. They watched as the man slammed the trunk closed then walk into the hotel. Not twenty seconds later he came out and looked around.

The doctor saw that the man noticed the Fourth of July picnic that was going on, how could anyone not see it, and started to walk towards them. By this time he had rolled up his sleeves and the doctor saw that he was wearing a black t-shirt under the long sleeved one. Not exactly the proper clothing for this time of the year. Granted the temps had dropped but not by much, it was still in the lower 80s.

'Rough customer,' Doc J thought to himself as he took in the military type haircut and the biker boots. He glanced at John again and noted that his young charge was not frightened, but had an aura of being scared. He barely heard the whispered, "Dean," that John breathed out. 'What now?' the Doc still could not put meanings to every nuance of that word.

Looking back he saw that the stranger had taken notice of John and was making a beeline towards him. At this moment he also noticed that most of the town's folk had quieted down and was staring at the stranger and the young man. The stranger did not seem to notice the attention, too focused.

John took a few steps toward the stranger and then stopped when they were within twenty feet. The man taking his lead from him stopped as well. The retired doctor could see questions in the man's green eyes along with hope and a flash of fear.

The silence was almost complete except for the occasional barking dog or the mummers from conversations too far away. There was tension in the air that threatened to choke everything out until John broke it.

"Dean?" he asked in a normal conversational way, with a hint of wistfulness. His body language still said keep back and his face was guarded.

The stranger blinked then cleared his throat and said, "Sam?" in almost the same conversational tone but was betrayed by the longing undertones.

John relaxed a bit but still held himself in check as he crossed his arms across his chest and tilting his head, questioning, "Dean?"

The stranger relaxed a bit as well and mirrored the stance but pulled his head back, answering, "Sam?"

The crowd watched this weird parody of a conversation playing out in front of them. Doc J could follow as much to deduce that they knew each other and it was good. He was beginning to worry all the other man could say was 'Sam.'

John blinked rapidly then almost melted, a smile touched his lips when he said, "Dean," dropping his arms to his sides.

A smile spread across the stranger's face lighting up his whole being, "Sam!" he exclaimed with tears falling from his eyes. He took a step and was met half way by John.

"Dean!" he said when they embraced to reinforce that the man was still there. They hugged for minutes then pulled apart.

At arms length the stranger, Dean, now the whole town had a face to go with a name, said, "Dude, I'm sorry."

Sam, who would forever be thought of as John by Doc J, shook his head and responded, "I knew you would come," quietly, a small sad smile replaced the overjoyed one that was there only moments before. He wiped the tears from his face with the back of his arm.

"I missed you, Sam," Dean now held the same sad smile.

Sam's smile renewed it's joy, "I missed you to, jerk."

Dean laughed and responded in kind, "Bitch."

End 


End file.
